On scanning recent dispatches from Popkulturelandia, one gets the feeling of living in a land at war, with calls to arms sounded every hour, or at least as often as gossip sites update. Which war, you may ask (as there are several going on)? Why, child, I mean the Late Night War, or so it has been called. I won’t bore you with the origins of the conflict, or its current status and body count, or even the latest revised assumptions of how it will all end. You probably understand these things as well as I do, and possibly better. No, instead I think I’ll bore you by detailing the ways in which I don’t care about any of this.

Again, and for clarity: I don’t care.

Because: I don’t watch late night television. That is, while I may watch TV late at night on occasion, I don’t spend that time with any of the shows caught up, even peripherally, in the Late Night War.

I am not a fan of Conan O’Brien. Tried him; didn’t like him. No animosity involved. Coco’s just not my cup of joe, never has been. And just between us, that Andy Richter guy didn’t work well for me, either. What’s that? You liked Andy? Srsly? Well. That’s why God made chocolate and vanilla, I guess.

I am not a fan of David Letterman. I’ve seen him now and again; could probably count on one hand the number of entire episodes I’ve watched of his show. If I found myself on the proverbial desert island with non-satellite television and one choice of program from the Late Night Warriors, I’d pick Dave, but I’d rather choose something from another category altogether. The DIY Network, perhaps, or the Food Network, or even Investigation Discovery (partial to The FBI Files, truth be told). But wait, those are satellite channels, so never mind.

I dislike Jay Leno. Nothing personal. I’m told that he works hard. He may be a great guy, hail-fellow-well-met and such, but I find him utterly unentertaining. If given Leno as my only viewing option on that desert island, I’d probably swim for it. It can’t be that far to the mainland, can it?

There it is, then. I have no skin in the game when it comes to the current late night contretemps, and I have to say that I feel pretty smug about it, and well above the fray. If only you felt the same.

So if I had a child, and that offspring came to me with wide wondering eyes to ask what I did during the Late Night War, my reply would be:

Child, I went to bed.

And my kid would be so proud of me.